


Nervous

by erolas (FlirtyFroggy)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, UST
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-07-16
Updated: 2010-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-10 14:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlirtyFroggy/pseuds/erolas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cedric has noticed something about Harry that Harry can't see. Featuring clueless Harry and knowing Cedric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A blend of book-verse and movie-verse. First posted in May/June 2006 to the two_seekers community on LJ. I may finish it one day but don't hold your breath.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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'Snape's going to kill me,' Harry thought as he scrambled through the Gryffindor portrait-hole. He could have sworn he'd put his potions essay in his bag the night before. Apparently he was wrong as, after much frantic searching during breakfast, he'd finally located his essay in the common room – right on the table where he had worked until after midnight. He glanced at his watch as he hurled himself down the stairs and swore loudly, provoking disapproving glances from the portraits on the walls. Snape was going to deduct every point Gryffindor had ever earned. Was it possible for house points to go into minus figures? Harry didn't know, but he was willing to bet that Snape would happily try.

A sensible voice in some distant part of his brain (a voice that sounded suspiciously like Hermione) warned him that he wouldn't get to the dungeons any quicker by falling and breaking his neck, and perhaps more haste and less speed was the order of the day. He ignored the advice and regretted it almost immediately as he turned a corner and launched himself down a flight of stairs that began to move as soon as he stepped on it. The sudden movement coupled with Harry's forward momentum caused him to lose his balance and pitch head first down the stairs, reaching the bottom just as it swung into place.

He landed in a heap on the floor and lay there for a while feeling dazed. The world had taken on a familiar blurriness. 'Stupid glasses,' he thought, feeling around on the ground for his errant eye-wear. He located them and put them on, and found his vision only slightly improved. Everything was much clearer now, but it was also split in two thanks to a crack in one of the lenses. He sighed and got to his feet, turning as he did so to look wistfully at the flights of stairs that would have taken him down to the entrance hall, and then onto the dungeon, had the whim of Hogwarts not intervened. He glared at the offending staircase. It seemed disinclined to move back to its original position. "Bugger," he said emphatically. For a wild moment he considered jumping onto the next floor down, but sanity reasserted itself in time. He could just imagine what Draco Malfoy would have to say if Harry landed himself in the infirmary wing for a week doing something so stupid; he would never hear the end of it. The Boy Who Went Splat. Things had been bad enough since the tournament started without adding that to it.

Sighing again, Harry picked up his bag, cast one last disgusted look at the stairs, and set off along the corridor hoping to find another way down to the dungeons.

Snape was really going to kill him.

*****

Harry swore loudly as he tramped down yet another corridor. He'd been wandering round for at least half an hour with no idea where he was. He'd long since passed the point of worrying about getting to potions; death was, by this point, the least of the things Snape was going to do to him. Instead, his curiosity was piqued. Thanks to his cloak and map, he'd probably explored more of the school than most people, but he'd never been here before. He knew he was on the fifth floor but in a place like Hogwarts that didn't narrow it down very much. He'd tried asking a haughty-looking young portrait how to get down to the entrance hall, but she had just looked at him as if he were dirt and turned away. There were hardly any other portraits in this part of the castle, which was weird as the rest of the place was practically wallpapered with them. The few doors he'd tried had all been locked.

He frowned as he came to a dead end and tried to mentally retrace his steps. Back down the passageway… past the weird three-armed statue...turn left…then right…had there been another turning by that old tapestry? He turned round and began the journey back the way he'd come. On the way he passed a giant vase he could have sworn hadn't been there before and, not for the first time, wondered whose bright idea it had been to create a castle that could think for its self. He had no idea if it actually could or not, but it often seemed that way.

He arrived at the tapestry, which was so old it was impossible to tell what it had originally depicted. Sure enough, there was an opening to a corridor right next to it. With no sense of optimism whatsoever he set off down it, readjusting his glasses as he went, as though this would help remove the crack in them. He really ought to memorise that spell of Hermione's. He was so absorbed in thoughts of his glasses that he didn't notice the door opening on his right until he'd almost walked into the person coming out of it.

"Oh, God, sorry."

"Merlin, I didn't see you there."

The voice brought Harry's head snapping up to look at the face. Of all the people he would have wanted to run into right now, Cedric Diggory was not at the top of the list. Harry had been avoiding him as much as possible ever since the night his name came out of the goblet. Since then his usual dreams – the screams, the pain, the high pitched laughter, the flashes of green light – had taken on a slightly different slant. Interspersed with the usual nightmares was the increasingly frequent image of Cedric's face as he all but told Harry he didn't believe he hadn't put his own name in the goblet. Harry had hoped that, since they were in this together, they could be, well, in this together. But, it seemed, Cedric didn't see it the same way. And so Harry had chosen avoidance. Being in different years and different houses had made it fairly easy for Harry to avoid the older boy, except when the tournament forced them to be in the same place at the same time, like at the wand weighing. Oh god, those Daily Prophet articles. Harry felt sick every time he thought of them.

"Are you alright Potter? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine," Harry answered automatically "I just - " He stopped, noticing Cedric's appearance for the first time. He usually looked neat and smart, as befits a Hufflepuff prefect and star student. Harry must have caught him on a bad day, though, because his robes were open, showing his half unbuttoned shirt and the tie hanging unfastened around his neck. His hair was wet and he was rubbing it with a towel.

"You just…what?" Cedric asked, frowning.

"I, uh, don't know. I forgot what I was saying." Harry could feel himself blushing with embarrassment. Of all the stupid things to say. Unable to look the other boy in the eye, Harry looked instead at his neck. His dark blond hair, made darker by the water, clung to the skin around his ears and jaw-line. A droplet of water ran from his hair, down the side of his throat, and over his collarbone before disappearing into the neck of his shirt. Harry almost shivered. It must be really uncomfortable to have your collar all damp like that. He became aware of Cedric frowning at him again, and realised that he hadn't been listening to what he was saying.

"I'm sorry, what?" said Harry, feeling, as he often did in the Hufflepuff's presence, like a prize idiot.

"I asked you what happened to your glasses," replied Cedric with a laugh. His eyes were roaming over Harry's face, studying him as though trying to work something out.

"It was stupid," Harry said. Then, to his mortification, he added quietly, "Should have listened to the Hermione voice."

"What?"

"Oh, I, er, I fell. The staircase moved and I lost my balance. Broke them when I landed."

If Cedric was impressed that Harry had graduated to using full sentences, he didn't show it. "Why are they still broken? Why don't you fix them?"

Harry resisted the urge to toe the floor. "I, um, don't know how." Cedric smiled at this, then draped his towel around his neck and reached out a hand towards Harry's face. Something of Harry's shock must have shown because the hand stopped half-way through its journey.

"Do you mind?" Cedric asked quietly, gesturing towards the glasses. "I know how to fix them." Harry nodded mutely and the older boy smiled again, that big, disarming smile that always set the Gryffindor girls giggling when they spotted it across the Great Hall. Then he removed the glasses, his fingers grazing Harry's temple as he did so. The skin on his hands was, like most quidditch players', rough from handling the broom so much, and it set Harry's every nerve twitching. He stood and watched, as if from a distance, as a dripping wet, partially dressed Cedric Diggory tapped his glasses with his wand, and couldn't help but wonder how the day had got so bizarre.

"There you go. Good as new." Cedric handed them back to Harry, their fingers brushing as he did so, Harry's nerves jumping once again at the contact. He hadn't realised before that his skin was so sensitive. Maybe Cedric's hands were rougher than other people's. Harry smiled his thanks and Cedric grinned in return. Harry felt himself relaxing slightly. Then there was a long awkward pause and Harry's ease vanished. He was casting about for something to say when a droplet of water glistening on the end of a strand of hair caught his eye. It quivered for a second and then fell, sliding down his cheekbone and coming to rest at the corner of his mouth.

"Um, why are you, you know," Harry gestured at Cedric's appearance. For the first time, Cedric looked embarrassed.

"Oh, I uh, managed to up-end a pitcher of pumpkin juice all over myself at breakfast. A cleaning charm never seems to make you feel properly clean, does it? Even though you know all the juice is gone, you still feel all sticky. It's probably just in your head, but you can't feel properly clean unless it's done with soap and water. Or at least, I can't but that's probably just…me." Cedric trailed off as he seemed to become aware of the fact that he was rambling. Harry just looked at him blankly; Cedric avoided Harry's eye.

"What's…?" Harry nodded towards the door Cedric had come out of and despaired of ever speaking coherently again.

"Prefect's bathroom. Perks of the job. I had a free period this morning so I decided to have a long leisurely bath instead of a quick shower." He frowned as he realised what he'd said. "Um, if you'd seen the prefect's bathroom you'd know that what I just said isn't as girly as it sounds."

"If you say so, Diggory." Harry laughed and Cedric seemed to relax at the sound. Then his forehead creased again for a second.

"What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be in class?"

"It's a long story."

"Does it have anything to do with why you were frantically searching through your bag at breakfast?"

"Er, yeah, it does actually. I left my homework in the common room and had to go and get it." And Harry launched into the story of his bad morning thus far, ending with "and I've been wandering around this floor for ages and I can't get out. I have no idea where I am!"

"Yeah, it's a bit weird round here. It's one of the oldest parts of the castle and it doesn't seem to like newcomers. It takes a while to get to know it." Cedric looked at Harry curiously. "What was the homework you forgot?"

"Potions," Harry replied glumly.

Cedric's eyebrows shot up into his still-damp hair. "Potions? You're supposed to be in potions now?" He looked at his watch and winced. "You're going to be in detention for the rest of your life."

"I'm not too worried about Snape now. I'm resigned to my fate. I'd quite like to get to DADA, though. How do I get out of here?"

Cedric's face had lit up a little at the mention of DADA. "Moody's great, isn't he?" Harry nodded in agreement and Cedric continued. "If you go back down the way you came there's a shortcut behind that tatty old tapestry. Tap the top left-hand corner of the largest stone with your wand and it should open for you. It will bring you out just off the Charms corridor."

Harry almost laughed with relief. "Thanks. I'd begun to worry I'd be stuck here forever."

"No problem. Look, I'd better get going or I'll be late too. McGonnagal may be a lot nicer than Snape but I still don't think she'd think much of me turning up to Transfiguration looking like this." He gestured ruefully at himself. His hair was drying now; the blond showing through and the dry patches sticking out at angles of which Harry's own hair would be proud. It looked like someone had been running their hands through it. Harry pictured the look on Professor McGonnagal's face if Cedric walked into her classroom in his current state and burst out laughing. After a moment Cedric joined in.

They were still smiling as they said goodbye and Harry turned and walked towards the tapestry. At the corner he hesitated and glanced back. Cedric was still standing outside the prefect's bathroom, towelling his hair. Harry couldn't tell if he was looking his way or not and was about to continue on his way when he saw the other boy raise a hand in farewell. Harry grinned, returned the motion, and turned the corner.  


 

 


	2. Chapter 2

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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Harry slumped against the wall outside the potions classroom. When he'd finally caught up with him, Snape had gone ballistic. Ballistic in a quiet, silky way, but ballistic nonetheless. Harry was now on his final detention, and could only imagine what it would involve this time. His hands still hadn't recovered from spending Wednesday evening scrubbing out those cauldrons, which Harry was sure hadn't been used since Dumbledore was a student. He was massively behind on his homework, again; Ron still wasn't speaking to him; most of the school was still wearing Draco Malfoy's stupid badges; and, as if that wasn't bad enough, the First Task was looming. Life was not being kind to Harry Potter.

Harry was not the only one slumped against the wall. It seemed Snape had not been happy this week (if Snape was ever happy) as Harry was accompanied by Ernie MacMillan, (who kept shooting glares at him out of the corner of his eye), a pair of Ravenclaw Fifth Years, and even a Slytherin Third Year. Harry wondered what crime a Slytherin would have to commit to force Snape to put them in detention. Consorting with Gryffindors, perhaps?

"Is Snape always this late for detention?" It took a second for him to realise he was being addressed by one of the Ravenclaws. He was about to take offence at the assumption that he would know all about Snape's detention habits when he realised that it was a reasonable guess. He took a moment to wonder how a person makes it to Fifth Year without incurring Snape's wrath before he answered.

"Not usually. He's normally right on time. Can't wait to get the torture started."

"Maybe this is part of the detention," the other Ravenclaw suggested. She looked familiar to Harry but he couldn't place her. "He's going to let us sit here and stew." Ernie and the Slytherin didn't say anything at all and the conversation petered out.

Five minutes later a figure came striding down the corridor. It wasn't Snape. Everybody gaped at Cedric Diggory as he stopped in front of them. It wasn't unusual for prefects to take detention, but never in living memory had Snape's detentions been supervised by anyone other than Snape. Ernie recovered first. "Hi Cedric," he beamed at his housemate. Cedric nodded in return as he opened the door. "Hey, Ernie. Well, in you all go." He waved them in and they all filed past him, the Ravenclaw girl giving him a smile and a quiet "Hi, Cedric" as she went past. Harry realised suddenly why he recognised her; she was friends with Cho Chang. As he thought of the pretty fifth year girl he walked past Cedric, who gave him a smile and a wink, and he felt a familiar kick in his stomach.

On entering the classroom, the group automatically split up. Ernie took a desk at the front, the two Ravenclaws sat at the side of the room nearest the supply cupboard. Harry and the Slytherin boy chose places at the back; on opposite sides of the room. "Cedric," said Ernie when they were all settled, "Where's Snape?" All eyes turned to the prefect, who frowned thoughtfully before answering.

"It's a bit…weird," he began. "He was on his way down from Dumbledore's office when that big suit of armour on the stairs between the fifth and sixth floors just…fell on him." Silence greeted this statement. For a second.

"What?"

"It _fell_ on him?"

"That thing must weigh a ton."

"How could it fall?"

"Is he in the infirmary?"

Harry blushed as everyone turned to stare at him. He hadn't intended to sound quite so happy about it. Fortunately, he was rescued.

"Yes, he is in the infirmary, though it shouldn't be for long." There was laughter in Cedric's voice and when Harry looked at him, sure enough, he seemed to be trying to hide a smile. There were dimples in his cheeks that Harry hadn't noticed before, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. "As for how it fell – no-one knows. It just seemed to topple over of its own accord."

"Are you sure it wasn't - "

"Peeves?" Cedric interrupted Cho's friend. "No he was causing trouble at the other side of the castle at the time. It really did just fall over by itself. I went past soon after it happened and, er, got roped into taking Snape's detention. So, here I am. Snape told me what he wanted you to do so, er, I'll just go and get them." He didn't look too happy about it. Harry's worry, which had vanished when Cedric had appeared in Snape's place, returned as the Hufflepuff went into the store-room, ignoring the giggles of the Ravenclaws as he passed them.

The giggles stopped abruptly as Cedric reappeared with two heavy-looking buckets. He walked over to Snape's desk, put down the buckets and looked apologetically at the five apprehensive people in front of him.

"Snape needs the eyes removing from these newts."

  
*****

  
Harry swore viciously to himself as he flung the eyes into one bowl and the newt's body into another. Bloody Snape. At least Cedric was helping out with their chore, which was really very good of him. Every time Harry had looked up he had been sitting at Snape's desk, working away at his little pile of newts. Every so often Cedric would look up at the same time Harry did, give him a little nod, and go back to his task. Harry couldn't help watching the way Cedric worked; hands deft and confident, moving quickly and surely as he de-eyed his newts. Why couldn't he do it like that? Everything Cedric did seemed so much more graceful and elegant and just _better_ than his own clumsy efforts. He was going to kick Harry's arse in this tournament.

"Potter." Harry almost sliced his finger off as the very person he had just been thinking of appeared beside him, making him jump. "Shit, sorry, are you alright?" Cedric asked quietly.

"I'm fine," Harry whispered back. "I just nicked it."

"Let me see."

"No, really, it's…fine." Harry finished as Cedric took his hand and began inspecting the damage. The rough skin skimmed the sensitive area around his cut and he hissed.

"Sorry," Cedric whispered again.

"It's alright," said Harry, regardless of the fact that it was in fact bleeding quite badly. "It doesn't really hurt. It's just a little sore." Harry could feel himself flushing. Maybe it was the hard work with the newts, but it seemed a lot warmer in the dungeons than it usually did.

"I am sorry," Cedric said for the third time, still examining Harry's hand. "I just needed some more newts so I thought I'd get some of yours." He peered at the cut and frowned, his forehead creasing with concern. "This should be cleaned." He dropped Harry's hand as he stood and propelled him towards the sinks at the back of the room. By this point they had attracted the attention of the rest of the group. "Harry cut his hand," Cedric said by way of explanation. The others shrugged and went back to their work.

"This really isn't necessary," Harry insisted. "It's just a little cut."

"Your knife and your hands are covered in dead newt, Harry. It could get infected."

"Can't you just use a cleansing charm? Oh, wait," he continued, remembering. "It's not properly clean without water, right?"

"Right," Cedric grinned. "Now stop moaning and get it cleaned." He turned on the tap and held Harry's hand under it, removing the bits of newt before moving on to the cut. Harry gasped a little as Cedric ran his forefinger along the side of his hand. The sensitive area around the cut had spread further than he thought. Cuts from potions knives could be like that some times. He'd never had one this bad before though. He could feel every point where Cedric's hand touched his own as though he had never felt anything before: his rough palm cradled against the Cedric's, the older boy's fingertips brushing against his wrist, the motion of his thumb against the back of Harry's hand. Even the point where the other boy's arm rested against Harry's own could be felt more strongly than the amount of pressure would suggest. The feel of Cedric's fingers on his wound, conversely, didn't hurt as much as it should. The sharp sting, though painful, wasn't unpleasant. Harry looked up to find Cedric looking back at him, his face inches from his own.

"Alright?" Cedric whispered. He was so close Harry could feel the warmth of his breath on his cheek.

"Yeah, thanks," Harry breathed. He saw Cedric swallow hard as he pulled away.

"Great." Cedric's voice was normal again, if a little strained. He dried both their hands with a wave of his wand. Then he studied Harry's hand. "Looks, um, looks fine. Should probably be bandaged so it doesn't get full of newt again. I don't particularly want to stand here at this sink all night washing your hand." Harry glanced up at Cedric and noticed his cheeks were pink. It seemed he wasn't the only one who thought the dungeons were unusually warm.

Cedric reached up and opened the cupboard hanging above the sink. After rummaging around inside it for a couple of minutes he retrieved a roll of bandage and some scissors. "Give me your hand." Harry obediently held out is hand and watched, fascinated, as the older boy wrapped the bandage around it. Cedric dressed his hand with the same diligence with which he had worked on his newts, though not with the same control; Harry thought he detected a slight trembling in the other boy's hands as he cut the end off the bandage and tied it.

"There," said Cedric, holding Harry's hand in both of his for a few more seconds before dropping it. "That should do until Madame Pomfrey can heal it properly. You should go up to the infirmary when we're done here."

The two boys went back to their own seats, Cedric going via Harry's table to get some more newts, and carried on with their work. Occasionally they would glance up at each other, exchanging nods or smiles. Harry's injured hand tingled all evening.


	3. Chapter 3

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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Five days after his unusually eventful detention Harry lay on his bed and stared up at the canopy. Ever since Hagrid had shown him what they had to face in the first task he'd been in a kind of daze. Dragons. Fucking dragons. Had Dumbledore lost his mind? They couldn't fight dragons. What the hell was he going to do? And he still hadn't been able to tell Cedric. He'd spent so much time trying to avoid him, and now that he actually wanted – needed - to talk to him he was nowhere to be found. On the few occasions he had seen him he'd been surrounded by his Hufflepuff bodyguards, all of whom had sneered at him.

He had to warn him. There was no way Karkaroff and Maxime wouldn't tell Krum and Fleur. The thought of Cedric facing those dragons without any warning sent chills through Harry. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right. He could be hurt. He could be _ killed_. He…

Harry sat bolt upright on the bed, his decision made. He would find Cedric right now and speak to him, regardless of how many Hufflepuffs made snide remarks.

An hour later, Harry's enthusiasm for his plan was waning; Cedric was nowhere to be found. Harry hoped against hope that he wasn't in the Hufflepuff common room. There was no way he was going to go there and ask for him, even if he was able to find it. Cedric would just have to burn. He stalked down the cloister, trying his best to ignore the 'Potter Stinks' comments. Some were muttered quietly as he passed, others were shouted blatantly. It didn't matter. Harry heard them all. He didn't know why he was bothering to come down here; he'd already checked the quadrangle three times. After checking the greenhouses, though, he'd somehow found himself here. He barged through a pair of Hufflepuffs who were blocking his way and looked across the grass.

He hadn't been there when he'd looked before, but he was there now. Cedric Diggory was laying back on a bench, a sixth year boy sitting by his head. His legs dangled over the end of the bench, his feet touching the ground, and his robe was hanging open again. Really, Harry scowled, it was disgraceful behaviour for a prefect. Lounging around like that, robes open willy-nilly, random boys leaning over you. Someone should tell Professor Sprout how her prefects behaved.

He stomped over to the group, finding it easier to ignore the jeers and badges if he focussed on his target. Cedric didn't notice him at first, but when he did he sat up quickly, then looked away as if embarrassed by his reaction. 'You should be embarrassed,' Harry thought. "Can I have a word?" he said out loud, nerves about approaching Cedric in front of his fan club making him tense and breathless.

"Alright," Cedric replied, shrugging. He got up and followed Harry round the corner. Harry repeated the tactic of ignoring the Hufflepuffs by focussing on Cedric; this time by focussing on the sound of his laughter behind him. He tried not to mind the fact that Cedric was, basically, laughing at him. The older boy was still smiling as Harry turned round to face him.

"Dragons," Harry said, without preamble. The smile dropped from Cedric's face. "That's the first task. They've got one for each of us."

"Dr -" Cedric leaned in closer to Harry. He was close enough that Harry could see his eyes weren't blue as he had thought, but grey. "Are you serious?" Harry nodded, still feeling short of breath.

"And, erm, and Fleur and Krum, do they…?" Cedric's voice was getting quieter with every word.

"Yes."

"Right." Cedric kept his composure, but Harry could practically see his mind reeling. Harry turned to go, but was stopped by a hand on his arm. He could feel the heat from Cedric's hand through three layers of clothing as the prefect turned Harry back towards him. "Hey, listen, about the badges. I've asked them not to wear them, but…" That was when he began to panic. Cedric was standing so close, and he looked so sincere as he looked right into Harry's eyes; Harry suddenly couldn't stand it any more. He had to get away.

"Don't worry about it," he muttered, and left as quickly as he could without actually running. He could feel Cedric's eyes on him, watching him as he walked away.

*****

Later that day, Harry was back on his bed, once again staring up at the canopy. His thoughts were not so focussed this time. In fact, he couldn't seem to concentrate on one thing from one minute to the next. He would ping from thoughts of dragons to Ron to summoning spells to Malfoy and back to dragons again, seemingly with the speed of light. And all the time he could feel the spot on his arm where Cedric had rested a restraining hand to prevent him from leaving. Looking down he noticed the mark on his hand and held it up to look at it.

He didn't know why he hadn't gone to the infirmary and got his cut healed. He wouldn't have even run into Snape as the professor had been released from Madame Pomfrey's care after a couple of hours. It just hadn't seemed important to get it healed. He wondered if it would scar, and realised he wouldn't mind if it did. The bandage Cedric had applied was gone now, but Harry had left it on long after he could have taken it off.

Cedric Diggory. If Harry was honest with himself, Cedric cropped up in his thoughts almost as much as the tournament did these days. Of course, thinking of the tournament inevitably led to thoughts of the other champions, but Cedric appeared much more frequently than either Fleur or Krum. Jealous as Harry sometimes was of the older boy, he couldn't help but look up to him. 'That's what I should be like,' he thought. 'Earning people's respect through hard work and skill and character and whatever else the goblet looks for.' That was why he got so flustered around him, Harry decided. He just wasn't good enough compared to the true Hogwarts Champion. One of the reasons the reactions of the school bothered him so much was that, deep down, part of him agreed with them. He didn't deserve this the way Cedric did. He frowned slightly as the image of Cedric laughing at Draco 'The Ferret' Malfoy popped into his head. Something about those last thoughts wasn't right. Emotions were by no means Harry's strong point, but he suspected that simple admiration wasn't enough to cause the sheer _nervousness_ he felt around Cedric.

Something was tickling at the edge of Harry's mind, like when a word you were looking for was right on the tip of your tongue but you couldn't quite grasp it. He knew there was something more to this but it kept slipping away. If he could just –

"Harry?" the door opened and Neville's head appeared round it and Harry's train of thought was lost. "Hermione says that starving yourself won't make the dragon less inclined to eat you." Harry looked at the other boy uncomprehendingly. "It's dinner time," Neville added by way of explanation.

Harry thanked Neville and followed him down to the common room where Hermione was waiting. On the way down to the Great Hall she told Harry her plans for teaching him the summoning charm he would need for the first task. By the time she had been going for a couple of minutes Harry was only half listening; his thoughts were elsewhere and he just nodded intelligently whenever he heard her use the words 'focus' or 'concentrate'. Then they arrived at the entrance hall and he stopped listening altogether; Cedric was talking to Cho Chang by the doors to the Great Hall. Harry watched as she put her hand on Cedric's arm and laughed, tossing her pretty dark hair over her shoulder as she did so. Cedric, who had been looking serious and worried, laughed too and visibly relaxed; the tension dropped from his shoulders, his eyes crinkled at the corners and the dimples returned to his cheeks. Harry could hear their laughter from the other side of the room. He felt the need to kick something.

Just then, Cedric turned his head and saw Harry standing at the bottom of the stairs. His face froze. For a few seconds they stood and looked at one another, ignoring Cho and Hermione. Harry didn't seem to be able to look away from the older boy, who was looking back at Harry with equal intensity. Harry didn't know how long they stood there like that; it could have been seconds or hours. The moment was broken when Cho spoke to Cedric, pulling his attention away from Harry. Harry's hand tightened convulsively around the strap of his bag. He looked away from the sight of the two of them together and began to follow Hermione into the Great Hall.

"Harry, have you got a minute?" The now familiar voice sounded impossibly close. Harry turned to see Cedric standing just behind him. He must have moved quickly to get across the entrance hall in the few seconds since Harry had turned away. He looked more uncomfortable than he usually did.

"Um, yeah, sure," Harry managed. "I'll see you in there," he added to Hermione. She looked from one boy to the other, then shrugged and walked through the doors. Harry looked back at Cedric, who nodded his head towards a narrow corridor leading off the entrance hall that Harry had never noticed before. Had he been walking around this place with his eyes closed for the last few years?

They stopped just off the entrance hall; people were passing only feet away from them, but nobody would know they were there unless they looked. There was no light in the corridor; the only light came from the lamps in the hall. It felt to Harry as though they were very secluded. He felt his nerves start to rise again. They rose even more when Cedric stepped in towards him, the flickering light casting shadows across his face, and lowered his voice so they wouldn't be overheard.

"I just wanted to thank you. You know, for warning me about the dragons. I didn't really do it earlier, I think I was in shock," he added with a laugh. The sort of half-hearted nervous laugh people give when they want to lighten a tense situation and usually end up failing miserably. It was no different this time. It felt too warm in the narrow corridor and Cedric was once again too close. Harry's throat felt tight; when he tried to speak, it came out as an embarrassing cross between a squeak and a croak. He felt himself flush. Cedric smiled slightly. "Harry, are you alright?"

"I, um," Harry faltered. "You make me nervous," he finally blurted out. He could feel his skin take on a shade that would put Ron to shame. What on earth had possessed him to say that?

A smile spread slowly across Cedric's face and his eyes sparkled. "Nervous? Why"

'May as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb,' Harry thought, dredging up a phrase Mrs Figg used to use. "I don't know," he replied honestly.

The smile on Cedric's face changed; it became the closest Harry had seen to a smirk on the older boy. He leaned towards Harry, his breath ghosted across the younger boy's cheek and the hair stood up on the back of Harry's neck. He hesitated for a second then moved forward the final inch to whisper in Harry's ear. "I do."

He pulled back and studied Harry's flushed face; he seemed pleased with what he saw. Harry swallowed a couple of times and finally found his voice. "What?" he whispered. Cedric was still far too close for comfort; Harry could feel the heat radiating from the older boy and Harry's own skin tingled all over. Cedric's voice was still quiet when he spoke.

"I know why I make you nervous." Cedric looked at Harry for a few moments more, then turned and walked into the Great Hall, leaving Harry to stand and watch him go. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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A week later Harry was once again watching Cedric walk away from him. This time, however, it was because they were both pacing up and down inside a large tent, waiting to meet their fiery doom. Looking at the older boy as he strode across the floor, Harry was suddenly reminded of the Gryffindor chasers giggling about him. 'Strong and silent,' Katie had said. Harry understood now what she meant. Despite the fact that he must have been just as nervous as Harry was he looked focussed, as though he was concentrating solely on what he had to do. Harry, on the other hand, was having trouble dragging his thoughts away from just how many different ways a dragon could kill you. When he did manage to turn his mind towards something else, it was generally related in some way to Cedric Diggory. Occasionally his brain would see fit to combine the two trains of thought; he'd been plagued for days by dreams of Cedric being gouged open or burned alive. There had been other dreams, too, where he woke up sweaty and sticky, but he could never remember them. He'd been having them for a while but they had become more and more frequent of late. Between those dreams, the dragon nightmares and his usual Voldemort related visions, Harry was amazed he was getting any sleep at all.

The roar of a dragon outside brought Harry abruptly back to the present and he and Cedric exchanged worried looks. There was more shared understanding in that two second glance, Harry thought, than in entire conversations he'd had with most people. Just then Ludo Bagman breezed into the tent.

"Harry! Good-oh! Gather round all of you." The champions all grouped around him apprehensively; Harry had forgotten Fleur and Krum were even there. Bagman told them what they had to do, with rather too much enthusiasm in Harry's opinion, and held out a purple silk bag. None of the champions exhibited any surprise when Fleur pulled out a small model of a dragon; Harry and Cedric exchanged glances again. Somehow, regardless of how cute they were, the miniature versions just exacerbated their nerves. The group moved apart and Cedric, having drawn the dragon bearing the number 'one', moved towards the entrance. He looked at Harry one last time and nodded to him; Harry attempted to smile in return and failed miserably. Instead he just watched as the older boy prepared to face his dragon. Fleur and Krum had returned to their previous positions at the back of the tent, so Harry was the only one who saw when Cedric's outward composure broke for a second; he looked as though he was about to be sick. Harry's stomach twisted in compassion (or possibly just fear) as Cedric walked into the dragon enclosure to the cheers of the crowd.

*****

Harry sat in the First Aid tent and listened to the sounds of Madame Pomfrey fussing over Fleur as he prodded gingerly at his shoulder. Even the large gash the dragon had given him couldn't dampen his elation, however; he'd beaten the dragon, Ron was speaking to him again and the school no longer hated him. Ron and Hermione had gone back up to the school but Madame Pomfrey had insisted that all the champions remain in the tent for a while before she allowed them to go anywhere. His cubicle was split in two with a curtain down the middle. He could see Cedric's silhouette through the curtain; Harry didn't know exactly what had happened to him but he obviously wasn't too badly hurt as he was sitting up and Harry could see him moving around. Ron's account of the other champions' performances hadn't been much more enlightening than listening to Bagman's commentary had been.

Harry watched as the shadow that was Cedric Diggory got off its bed and moved towards the curtain. He felt his heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the adrenaline still pumping through his body. Then the curtain was pulled aside and the actual Cedric Diggory was standing in front of him. Light and shadow fell across his face, emphasising his cheekbones and jaw-line and reflecting off his hair. Harry's breath caught in his throat. Then Cedric stepped forward and Harry saw that the left side of his face was covered in orange gunk. 'Even he can't make that look attractive,' Harry mused. He stood and looked at Harry for a few seconds; Harry looked back at him, trying to think of something to say. Cedric found words first.

"How are you?" Admittedly, they weren't the most original or creative words in the world, but he was doing better than Harry.

"I'm ok. It's just a scratch. You?"

"I'm alright," Cedric raised his hand as though he was going to touch the orange paste and then thought better of it. "A bit burnt but Madame Pomfrey says I'll live." There was a pause of a few seconds, then Cedric grinned suddenly and his eyes lit up. He was practically bouncing on the spot. "We did it, Harry. We really did it." His enthusiasm was contagious and Harry found himself grinning along.

"We did, didn't we?"

"That was an amazing bit of flying," Cedric said, stepping closer to the bed. The nervousness Harry usually felt around the older boy, which had vanished in the face of dragons, returned with a vengeance. Cedric was now standing only a few inches away from where Harry was sitting with his legs over the side of the bed. If he took another step forwards his thighs would be brushing against Harry's knees. Harry felt his throat tighten as he tried to reply.

"Uh, thanks. I hear that what you did was pretty cool, too." Cedric looked embarrassed but pleased at the compliment and Harry couldn't for the life of him imagine why; it wasn't as though he wouldn't be used to hearing them.

"Thanks. Didn't work as well as it could have done, though." Cedric smiled ruefully, creasing the orange stuff, and gestured to his face. Harry leaned forward and peered at it. Curiosity over-rode his nerves for a moment.

"What is that stuff?"

"I have no idea. It's not the normal burn stuff; maybe dragon burns are special. It's good stuff though. It stopped hurting a lot quicker than usual."

"That's gr -" Harry stopped mid-word as something occurred to him. "How come you're such an expert on burn treatments?"

"Oh, I, er," Cedric looked down and shuffled his feet. "I was really clumsy in my first couple of years here. I was always having accidents in potions, which generally resulted in some sort of burning or scalding. I once went to add some hellebore to my cauldron but forgot I'd taken it off the heat. Stuck my arm straight into the flame and set my sleeve on fire." Harry stared at Cedric.

"You? You were accident prone?" Cedric nodded. "But, you're so… so…"

"I'm so… what?" Cedric looked genuinely interested and Harry's nervousness increased under his scrutiny.

"You know. You're just… you." Harry stumbled over his words as Cedric took that last step forward, the tops of his legs now leaning against Harry's knees.

"I'm me? Well, that's a revelation, Harry." The teasing note in Cedric's voice made the hairs stand upon the back of Harry's neck. "Can you be more specific?"

"You're just…" Harry stopped struggling to save himself from embarrassment. It was too late for that. "You're all elegant and co-ordinated and good-looking and definitely not the sort of person who sticks their arm into an open flame." Harry was forced to stop talking when he ran out of breath. Cedric was smirking. Or at least, Harry thought he was; it was difficult to tell through the paste.

"You think I'm good-looking?"

"Well, yes. Everyone does. Orange gunk not withstanding." Cedric smiled at that and ducked his head slightly. "But normally you look, um, I mean, you know, all the girls say, well…"

"The girls? Really? Just the girls?"

"Well, you know – what?"

"I was just -"

"So, how are we all feeling?" Madame Pomfrey came bustling back into the tent causing Cedric and Harry to spring apart. The speed with which Cedric returned to his side of the cubicle would have put an Olympic sprinter to shame. A second later Madame Pomfrey appeared before them. "Diggory! What are you doing out of bed? I told you all to rest. Get back on the bed. Potter, let me see that arm." Harry resigned himself to being fussed over once again, and tried to pretend he wasn't aware of Cedric watching him the whole time.


	5. Chapter 5

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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Harry was sitting in the Great Hall when it happened. The first task had distracted him for a while, but now he had gone back to his old hobby of trying to figure out what the hell Cedric had been talking about when he said he knew why he made Harry nervous. When he finally got it, he actually wasn't really thinking about Cedric at all.

Two days earlier the Yule Ball had been announced and the school was still buzzing with the news. Or, at least, approximately half the school was buzzing: the female half. All over the Great Hall girls were chattering excitedly about what they were going to wear, how they were going to do their hair, and who they wanted to go with. The boys, on the other hand, were less than thrilled about the prospect of having to learn to dance, not to mention having to find dates.

Harry had another problem. After their first dance lesson McGonagal had pulled him aside and told him that the champions and their partners had to open the ball; Harry thought he'd rather face the dragon again. He wondered if Cedric could dance, then decided that he probably could. He would have no trouble finding a partner either. 'Oh God,' Harry thought, 'I have to ask someone out.' He wondered what Cho would say if he asked her and the thought brought him up sharp. He realised that he hadn't thought about her for ages. He prodded at his feelings as he mechanically ate his steak and kidney pudding. Memories of her laughing with her friends and flying over the quidditch pitch flitted through his mind; none of them caused the flip in his stomach that they used to. The smile she had given him on the Hogwarts Express now had no effect on him whatsoever.

A peal of laughter made him look up and there, right in front of him, was Cho talking to Cedric by the Hufflepuff table; it was her laughter he had heard. He felt his heart skip and then speed up as he looked at them, which made no sense given what he'd just been thinking.

That's when he realised. He watched as Cho laughed up at Cedric while the older boy smiled down at her, looking, Harry thought, faintly sheepish, and it all just fell into place. 'I know why I make you nervous.' 'You think I'm good-looking?' 'The girls? Really? Just the girls?' It was as though the pieces had been in his mind all along and had just been looking for something to connect to.

He froze, his fork half-way to his mouth, and stared. He couldn't take his eyes off Cedric; he just sat and stared as realisation surged through him. Memories flickered through his head too quickly for him to focus on them: He and Cedric exchanging glances across Snape's classroom; his fascination with the water droplets on Cedric's skin; Cedric washing and dressing his hand; the two of them standing too close for comfort in a corridor; the look on Cedric's face when he told him that he'd asked his friends not to wear Malfoy's badges.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he couldn't even react when Cedric turned his head and looked straight at him. He smiled at Harry when he saw him looking, then frowned when Harry didn't respond. The two of them simply looked at each other until Ron's voice beside Harry finally pulled his attention away.

"So, are you going to ask her, mate?"

"What?" Harry finally managed to drag his eyes away from Cedric.

"You've been staring at Cho for the last ten minutes. Are you going to ask her to the ball?" Harry looked back up. Cedric's attention was back on Cho and they were laughing again. They did that a lot, Harry noted as a pang of jealousy went through him. Ron was watching them too. "You'd better get in there quick if you're going to ask her," Ron motioned towards them with his fork, "before pretty-boy Diggory beats you to it."

"Don't call him that," Harry said automatically, watching as Cho returned to her own table and Cedric sat down, glancing over at Harry as he did so. "He's alright." Ron looked slightly taken aback, but then shrugged and returned to his food. Harry spent the rest of dinner studying the back of Cedric's head.

*****

Harry spent the next few weeks perfecting his avoidance skills; when he wasn't fobbing off Hermione's enquiries about how he was coming along with his egg, he was rushing down corridors and diving into alcoves whenever he saw Cedric in the distance. He just couldn't face seeing him – he had too much to try and get his head round and the last thing he needed was Cedric confusing him and throwing him off balance.

It just didn't make sense. He liked girls. He'd been mooning after Cho for months, and if there was one thing he was sure of, he was sure his reactions to her had been real. Then again, there was no getting away from the fact that Cho no longer had that affect on him. Nor from the fact that Cedric now apparently did. How was it he'd suddenly seemingly switched from one to the other? Was that even possible? Did it happen? Harry didn't know; it wasn't exactly something that was talked about at 4 Privet Drive. He'd spent night after night recently lying in bed going over memories in his head, remembering every boy he'd ever admired, every play fight he'd ever had, every time he'd glanced sideways in the showers. He acknowledged to himself he'd looked at other boys, but he honestly couldn't say whether there was anything to it or not. Where was the line? Where did curiosity stop and interest begin?

All of this was largely irrelevant, though, Harry thought as he ran quickly up the steps to the owlery, a letter for Sirius clasped in his hand. Did it really matter whether he'd been interested in boys before? He was clearly interested in them now, or interested in one at least, and that was the issue at hand. What was he going to do about it? He could hardly ask Cedric to the ball, could he? Harry didn't know how homosexuality was treated in the wizarding world, but he saw no reason to assume that it would be tolerated any more than in the muggle world. He tried to picture himself and Cedric dancing at the ball, holding hands in the corridors and going on Hogsmeads weekends together. Part of him thrilled at the idea, but the rest of him, the larger part, wanted to laugh at the absurdity. They'd be lynched.

And there was his other problem: the ball. The thought of it had been horrific enough before; now it was a nightmare. Not only was he going to have to go with a girl (assuming he actually managed to ask one) and act like a fraud in front of the whole school, but there would be no avoiding Cedric. Cedric who would be all spruced up in dress robes; Cedric with his knowing smile, who had apparently had known about Harry's feelings before Harry himself; Cedric who would be there with someone who wasn't Harry. He didn't know if he could stand it.

He was running up the steps with his head bent against the cold wind as he thought all this, and so didn't notice Cho Chang coming the other way until they'd almost collided. It was while they were dancing around, each trying to pass the other, that Harry made his split second decision. Cho had already begun her descent when he called out to her.

"ChoIwasjustwonderingifmaybeyouwantedtogototheballwithme?" Cho stopped and turned to him, looking bewildered.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't quite catch that."

"I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to go to the ball with me." Harry drew in a breath. He had to ask someone and Cho was here and he'd always liked her and maybe if they went to the ball together he'd like her again and then he wouldn't have to deal with this whole Cedric mess. She looked awkward and embarrassed. It didn't bode well.

"Oh. Harry, I'm really sorry but someone's already asked me and, well, I've said I'll go. With him."

"Oh. That's fine. Really. Not a problem." Harry knew he sounded like an idiot, but he didn't really care. "I'll see you later." He turned to go but she called him back.

"I really am. Sorry, I mean."

He called to Hedwig as he entered the owlery and wondered idly who Cho was going with. It didn't really matter. She wasn't going with him which meant he would have to find someone else. He'd had plenty of interest from girls recently, the tournament had brought them all out of the woodwork, but none from anyone he actually wanted to go with. Except Cedric, who wasn't really a viable option and so didn't count. Harry didn't doubt that Cedric was interested in him; if he wasn't then he wouldn't have pushed Harry in the way that he did. It crossed his mind briefly that he might have been playing with him, that he'd seen Harry's interest and decided to have a little fun at his expense. He dismissed the thought almost immediately. He didn't know the older boy very well, but he was sure he would never toy with someone else's feelings for his own amusement.

He tied his letter to Hedwig's leg and fed her a bit of bacon he'd brought for her before sending her on her way. His stomach flipped over as, once again, memories came back to him. The image of Cedric standing in the corridor off the Entrance Hall filled Harry's mind. It was so vivid that Harry could practically feel the heat that radiated from the older boy as he stood far too close to him. He could see the glint in his eye as he leaned in even closer and his skin broke out in goose bumps as he recalled the sound of Cedric's voice whispering in his ear: 'I do.'

How had Cedric known? Had Harry been really obvious? Had Cedric only noticed Harry watching him because he himself had been watching Harry? Had Harry actually been watching him? He didn't know. He'd noticed him a lot, but these days it was difficult not to. He was going round in circles. He kept going over the same questions in his head and not coming up with any answers. He was going to have to do something about it. He just didn't know what. Yet.

 

 


End file.
